


Bluebonnet Season

by Lizardqueen93



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of past abuse, Possible smut, i! just! want! to! hug! him!, my self indulgent excessively long novel about my favorite big boi, reader gets in on the action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardqueen93/pseuds/Lizardqueen93
Summary: As a child, you were best friends with Thomas Hewitt until the state took you away. Ten years later, you've finally made your way back to Texas - but a lot can change in a decade. How will you learn to adjust to the Hewitt's new life? Can you manage to work your way back into the heart of your old best friend?(aka I'm literally in love with Thomas Hewitt bc he's just a big sweet boi who deserves a hug and someone who loves him for who he is! thanks!)





	1. Coming Home

It had been 10 long and hard years since you had last been down this road, but somehow it seemed so familiar. It was blazingly hot walking down the cracked Texas asphalt; you had hitched most of the way here, but you hadn’t seen a car for the last 6 miles. Just across a long foundered field, you could see the outline of the Hewitt plantation. That brought a smile to your face, easing your fears. You really were back home.

You had known the Hewitt’s your whole life. You had been born in the farmhouse adjacent to their property; Luda Mae had helped bring you into the world. Unfortunately she couldn’t save your mama from all the bleeding, and in the span of 12 hours your daddy got his daughter and lost his wife. So you grew up underfoot in the Hewitt home. Luda Mae would tend to you like you were her own child, and your father would repay her with whatever he could spare from his failing farm and free work around the plantation. 

As you trudged down Texas state highway 75 towards the house, one specific Hewitt was at the forefront of your mind. Tommy was the closest in age to you, only 2 years older, and you were constant companions. Once you could crawl you were always chasing after Tommy; once you could walk, he was always chasing after you. You were the fearless one of the pair and you would inevitably get hurt and Tommy would get a whooping for not keeping a better eye on you, but even though he tried his best to be your protector you just couldn’t stay out of trouble. That thought made you laugh to yourself - some things never changed. Now you were 23 and you still couldn’t stay out of trouble.

All those years ago, everything had been perfect. You hadn’t realized then that you were desperately poor and born into a hopeless life; no shoes on your feet and eating scraps of trash. And then, when you were twelve, your daddy got sick. There was no money for a hospital or a doctor; he told you not to worry, but pretty soon he couldn’t even get out of bed. Not even a year later, not long after your thirteenth birthday, he died.

That had been hard. It still stung when you thought about it, although you had cried all the tears you had in you long ago. But you had figured that at least you still had the Hewitts - the rest of your family. Then 2 days after you put him in the ground, some lady in a skirt suit had shown up at the Hewitt house. The state was taking you away. 

You remembered your last day with the Hewitt’s as clear as if it was yesterday. Tommy and you had sat on your bed at your daddy’s house; the social worker had given you a chance to “pack” but all you owned was 2 dresses, a bible, and a pair of boy’s trousers for farm work you had stuffed into an old flour sack. Although Tommy taken to wearing a mask all the time by then, you could see the sorrow drowning in his eyes. Not five minutes later you were waving goodbye out of the back window the social worker’s car, no idea what the future ahead would bring. 

You had never felt anything better than seeing the Hewitt house grow closer - like the hole in your heart that ripped open when you had watched it fade from view could finally start to heal. You felt a little nervous as you walked towards the front door - it had been a long ten years. What if they didn’t remember you? What if they didn’t want you around? It had been a thousand mile trip to get from Chicago back to Texas, and if you were turned away you had no idea what was next. Maybe Florida - you had heard on the radio it was supposed to be glamorous and warm.

Swallowing your fears, you knocked on the front door. 

\---

A minute later, it swung open. A smiling older man in a sheriff’s uniform stood in the doorway, opened his mouth: 

“Hey there darlin’, you lost -” and cut himself off as recognition spread across his face. You couldn’t stop your grin from spreading across your face. “In the lord’s name, I never thought I’d see you around these parts again! How’re you doin’, sweetheart?!

“Hey Charlie, how ya’ll been? If you’re the sheriff, you really musta been the last man left in town.” You teased. A strange emotion passed over his face, and he quickly responded. 

“It’s Hoyt now darlin’, don’t forget it. Charlie’s dead.” This confused you but you didn’t push it - even back when you were a kid he had been an odd one, better to leave it be. You could figure it out later. As quick as the strange mood had come over him it passed and he turned around and shouted back into the house. “Momma, you better get down here!” 

You couldn’t wait to see Momma, and in seconds she had damn near pushed Hoyt over to see who was at the door.

“Y/N!!” She exclaimed. “Oh honey, where on earth did ya come from!? Please, come in, get out of this heat!” You accepted her invitation and she directed you through the foyer and into the living room. 

The house had seen better days, that was for sure, but it looked exactly how you remembered it - worn to the bone, clean as a whistle. You could feel the comfort settle in your bones, and for the first time in a decade you felt yourself starting to let your guard down. 

“Tommy!” Luda Mae called, and your heart jumped. So he was still here. Then shook her head. “Hoyt, you better go get him. He’s down in the basement.” Charlie - [i]Hoyt [/i]- sighed and walked off, calling Tommy’s name. Luda Mae sat down with you on the couch. 

“How are ya, honey?” She asked you kindly. The years had worn on her appearance but her eyes were still so kind. You didn’t want to lie to her but you sure as hell weren’t about to tell the truth of it all either. 

“I’m doin’ alright.” You said. “It’s a tough world out there, but I made it back home.” You rubbed your wrist with your other hand and avoided her gaze, but thankfully she didn’t push it.

“It broke my heart to lose you, honey. I’ve been waiting for 10 years for you to come knockin’ on my door. Are you just passin’ through?” She asked. You shrugged. 

“I’m uh, I’m aimin’ to stay. I was just hopin’ once I made it back here I could find some work and maybe stay at my daddy’s old place or somethin’.” You said. She grinned infectiously. 

“Well honey, you just stay with us now. Your daddy’s old place ain’t safe for you to stay in, it’s barely standin’. You’re our family, this is your home as it is.” Luda Mae offered.

“Oh Momma, I couldn’t possibly, I can’t just be takin’ advantage of your kindness like that-” before you could finish your protest, you were interrupted by the sounds of someone stomping up a staircase. 

And there he was, walking into the room. 

Tommy. 

You instantly decided he had only gotten more handsome with time. He was the biggest man you’d ever seen, towering over you, as broad as two normal men. His arms were so thick, hands large and calloused. His hair hung long and dark around his face, and although you were disappointed to see the leather mask covering the bottom half, you were happier than you could imagine to see those expressive eyes again. 

You felt your heart swell and break all at the same time, but not one to get hung up on your own emotions, you charged at him instead of dwelling on it, throwing yourself into a hug. 

“Tommy!” You cried joyfully. “I’ve missed you more’n I can say.” You felt his body stiffen against yours for a moment, and then, in an unsure way, he had returned the hug. For the first time since you were 13, you felt all of your problems temporarily melt away. 

\------------

Tommy had been in the basement doing his work - butchering. It had been 2 years since the slaughterhouse closed, and he had come to terms with their new situation. It wasn’t like had a care for any human in the world outside of the Hewitt house anyways - well, hardly any. He still thought about you every day - how couldn’t he? - but he had long accepted that you had found some normal man, settled down, started some perfect little family somewhere else in the world. And he would be alone forever in this basement like the animal everyone said he was.

It was odd to hear a knock on the front door, but he assumed it just meant more meat. Someone dumb enough to just waltz right up. He heard Hoyt answer the door, shout for momma, and then momma animatedly talking to someone. This was curious. Was Henrietta visiting? 

And suddenly Hoyt was thundering down the stairs, calling for him. Tommy started up the stairs, but Hoyt stopped him. 

“You better clean up a little bit first, boy.” He said, and Tommy saw a strange glimmer in his eye. Tommy quickly ditched his apron and tried to wipe himself down a bit, accepting it was mostly a lost cause, before heading up after Hoyt. 

As he got up to the first floor, he could hear the voice of the visitor. It was familiar - in a way it shouldn’t be - couldn’t be. His heart started to pound and as he entered the living room, he saw you sitting there next to Momma. 

You turned to him and, in a frozen half second before you flew into his arms, he saw you bathed in the Texas sunlight. You were beautiful now - you always had been, but as an adult you had developed such wonderful, soft curves. Your sun kissed brunette hair seemed to somehow be in a state of constant mess and movement; your eyes were still a beautiful green, the soft heart shape of your face comically countered by your crooked nose. That hurt his heart to remember; when you were 10 and he was 12, you had run your mouth one to many times at his schoolyard bullies and 3 older boys had pinned you down and broke your nose. It had never healed right.

A second later you were in his arms. He stiffened, completely unsure of how to handle the situation, but his arms, almost acting on their own accord, wrapped around you to hold you back. He felt incredibly uncomfortable - he wanted nothing more than to just pick you up and carry you away, but he was sure you would never feel that way about him. You had just been naive enough as a child to treat him like he wasn’t a dog, but you’d know better now. No point in even trying. 

Over your shoulder he could see Momma giving him a pointed look. Don’t screw this up, Thomas Hewitt. I still want grandchildren. This only made him feel worse. Couldn’t Momma see that you would never feel that way? After what seemed both like only a moment and also a thousand years, you broke away and smiled up at him. 

“How are you, Tommy?” You asked, studying his eyes for his answer. You had always been able to read him, perks of growing up hand in hand, and apparently you hadn’t lost it over the last 10 years. Which meant Thomas couldn’t hide the explosion of emotions - confusion, joy, worry, weariness - as he looked down into your eyes. You smiled sadly. 

“Me too, Tommy. Me too. We got a lot of catchin’ up to do, huh?” He shrugged. I guess. What was there for him to tell you? It had only gotten worse since you had left? There were no jobs, no food, no one left and oh also we eat people now, welcome back! You’d never stay here, not with him, not with who they had become.

You saw the pain in his eyes and interpreted it as annoyance. You felt your own temper flare up and you took a few steps back. 

“Well, even if you didn’ miss me, I missed you. An’ it’s good to see you again.” You said. Your voice had more of a tone than intended, and he dropped his eyes to the floor. You felt a flash of guilt - it had been a long time. You couldn’t just expect him to pick up right where you left off as kids. You reached out and gently touched his arm. “Sorry, Tommy. I shouldn’ snap at you like that. Just tired from being on the road.” 

He pulled his arm back like it burned and walked away as quick as he could. You sighed - figures. You wait a decade for that man and he turns away from you. You didn’t take it personally, you knew how he was. When the bullies at school broke your nose, he avoided you for damn near a year afterwards. He was always convinced his presence in your life was somehow determinantal and you’d be better off if he was gone.

Luda Mae took this as a cue to jump back in, tapping the sofa cushion next to her, inviting you to sit back down. 

“Did your car break down around here, honey? I didn’t see anyone pull up.” She said. “We can go and get it for ya, Monty can take a look at it, maybe fix it up.” You smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of your neck. 

“I uh, I don’ have a car.” You confessed. “I hitched most of the way here n’ walked the rest.” A look of complete shock crossed the old woman’s face and she pressed her hand to her heart. 

“Heavens me!” She said, flustered. “Tell me you weren’t comin’ too far.” You dropped your eyes to the floor. 

“Well Momma, to be honest with you, I made it here from Chicago.” The old woman made a loud, distressed noise. 

“Chicago?! Oh heaven help us. Honey, why on earth were you in Chicago? You hitched here from Chicago?!” She looked you up and down, glancing at the tattered backpack you were holding on to. “Is that all you brought with you?” 

Now you were embarrassed. You suppose you couldn’t avoid this conversation, but you definitely didn’t want to have it. 

“Um, yeah it is, Momma. Reckon I don’t got anythin’ else. Like I said it’s uh, a tough world out there.” You offered, staring a hole into the floor.

“Well that settles it.” She said firmly. “You’re stayin’ here, honey. Lord above, you poor thing.” You didn’t know it, but Tommy had retreated to the next room over so he could still listen in, and a strange feeling overtook his body. 

So you were staying. Part of him felt happier than he had since he was a kid. Another part of him was already aching, knowing that the loneliness would only be worse in some ways, now that you were back where he could see you but still could never have you. And all the way from Chicago - how bad could it have been that you’d hitch a thousand miles across the country just to get back to this mess? What could be worse than a lifetime of hard work and crushing poverty?

Unaware of his thoughts, you continued your conversation with Luda Mae. “Well Momma, I’m happy to stay, honest, but I can’t just be taking advantage of your kindness. Is there any work around here? It seems like most everythin’ left dried up and went away.” Luda Mae sighed. 

“The slaughterhouse closed up two years ago and the town went with it. We’re about the only family left in these parts. We still keep the station open - plenty of bikers and hippies out here. It’s gotten lawless.” Your face fell. 

“Well gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. How’ve ya’ll stuck it out without the slaughterhouse?” You asked. The Hewitt’s had been working there for forever. Luda Mae’s glance shifted to the side. 

“We’ve uh, we’ve started a bit of our own operation. Along with maintainin’ a few chickens and a small garden, we get by. And we’ll find some work for you to do around here, lord knows we could use some help. Monty lost his legs a few years back and Charlie - well, he’s been off in his own world. At this point it’s really just me and Tommy keeping the place together.” She said, and she sounded incredibly weary. You reached out and took her work-worn hand in yours. 

“Nothin’ would make me happier than helpin’ you out, Momma. You shouldn’t have to do all that by yourself.” You said kindly, looking into her eyes. She smiled and suddenly wrapped you in a hug. 

“You’re such a good girl, you always have been. We’re so happy you’re back.” She said, squeezing you. And there in the living room, you finally started to let go of some of the hurt you had been carrying for the last 10 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give! me! the! big! bois!
> 
> Ages are a little whack. Technically Thomas should be like, 31 in this story and he’s 25. Let’s just pretend we cut out some unimportant years (maybe like, early 60’s?) and just kinda smashed the timeline together.


	2. Settling In

After another few minutes of pleasantries with Luda Mae, she showed you upstairs to the room you could stay in and you excused yourself to rest for a bit. You unpacked the couple items you owned - a decent white dress, two pairs of shorts, a couple ratty blouses, and the Smith & Wesson handgun that had kept you safe on the road. You tucked the gun in the drawer of the side table. It felt incredibly strange to not have it strapped to your person for the first time in years, but you were safe now without it. With that you collapsed on the mattress, asleep before your head hit the pillow. 

Lost in sleep, you were completely unaware of the conversation happening downstairs. 

“She’s stayin’ here?! Have you lost your damn mind, Momma?” Hoyt snapped, bringing his fist down on the dinner table. “What do you think is going to happen when we bring some new meat home? She’s just gonna jump on in and help us out? This is putting the whole family at risk”. 

Luda Mae pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sending her back out on the road. Not after she crossed the damn country to get back to us. She never shoulda left here in the first place, she’s part of the family. Asides, it ain’t Christian to turn someone in need away.” This made Monty snort, but he didn’t chime in. 

“Well what do you propose we do then, Momma? Just bring her on down and tell her what we’ve been up to?” Hoyt asked. Luda Mae thought about this for a moment. 

“I suppose we’ll just try to keep her away from it for now. Send her to the station or over to Henrietta’s or somethin’ when...well, when.”

Hoyt shook his head and snorted. “How long is that supposed to work for? Just keep her away from it forever? It’s pretty damn obvious somethin’s goin’ on here, Momma.” Monty nodded in sullen agreement and Luda Mae scowled. 

“Well, eventually she’ll have to find out. And when she does she can make a choice - she’s either part of this family or she’s not. And if she’s not, then she’s a danger to us and she’ll have to go.” A silence settled in the room. 

Thomas, from the shadow of the doorway, felt his heart drop through his chest. He knew what that meant. He remembered how it felt when your body pressed against his, the softness of your hand on his arm, your hair in the sunlight. He supposed he would do what he had to - his duty was to protect his family. He silently prayed to whatever God there was above that you wouldn’t try to leave the family, that you would understand what they did. 

\---

An hour later you woke up from your nap and headed downstairs to find Luda Mae. 

“Hey Momma.” You said cheerfully, and she smiled sweetly back at you. 

“Hey darlin’, you feelin’ a bit better after your trip now?” She asked with a kind tone - nothing like the woman who, less than an hour earlier, had called for your murder if necessary. 

“Yeah, that was the best I’ve slept since - well, a long time.” You said gratefully. “I don’t even know how I’ll begin to repay you for your kindness.” 

“Don’t worry about all that now, dear. Let’s go ahead and get dinner on the table.” She said kindly. An hour later you had managed to scare up some biscuits, collards, and a thick cut of some kind of meat that reminded you of pork shoulder, but wasn’t quite the same. You had boiled it down in a stockpot and then fried it in its own fat with the collards - not exactly the Texas style, something you had learned in Chicago. 

This got some looks when it was served. After Hoyt lead the family in prayer, he poked at it with a fork.

“How n’ the hell did you cook this, girl?” You gave him an irritated look. 

“Oh, just try it. You’ll like it.” You snapped, shoveling some into your mouth on a biscuit. You were absolutely ravenous and the hunger hit you like a freight train. The meat was incredible. “What kinda cut is this, anyways? Reminds me of pork but it aint quite. It’s amazin’.” You saw Luda Mae and Hoyt exchange a look over the table.

“Better you don’t ask, darlin’. You might not like it so much if you found out.” Hoyt teased. This gave you a pause - what were you eating? Coon, maybe? - and after a moment you decided you didn’t really care, because food was food, and you went back to eating like a starving woman. 

The others had started in, and you were pleased to see they liked it too, even if Hoyt wouldn’t directly admit it. Monty and Luda Mae complimented you, and best of all, when Thomas tried it, you heard him make a low, satisfied rumble from across the table. You smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you like it, Tommy.” You met his eyes and he immediately looked away, but you caught him staring at you every once in awhile throughout the rest of the meal. Every time you looked him in the eye he would jerk away like it burned. 

After dinner the men all headed off - Hoyt and Monty to the front porch to drink beer in the cooling evening air, Tommy no doubt to the basement - and you and Luda Mae started to clean up the aftermath.

“Somethin’ on your mind, honey?” She asked kindly as you scoured away at the stockpot. In the background you could hear the soft tones of the radio playing golden oldies and frogs croaking away. 

“Oh, it’s nothin’, Momma. I got no right to complain, with you taking me in and feeding me. I’m happy to be back.” You assured her. The old woman smiled at you and you saw a sparkle in her eye. 

“He missed you somethin’ terrible, you know. And he’s glad you’re back. But you know that boy, he takes time. You know the week you turned 18, he sat on the porch for hours every night? He thought for sure you’d be comin’ back.” 

That thought damn near shattered your heart. You had tried to come back here when you turned 18 and finally aged out of the system, but that just landed you in a whole world of trouble. You watched Luda Mae try to bend over to wipe down the stovetop and press her hand to her back in pain. 

“Hey Momma, I can finish cleaning up. You go rest for awhile.” You said. The old woman tried to protest but you practically pushed her out of the kitchen. If they were taking you in it was the least you could do. 

You flipped the radio away from the oldies - Momma’s choice - to a rock station. You could only find one that had decent reception, some station out of Odessa, but at least it was something. You turned your attention back to the kitchen, swaying to The Doors. About 15 minutes later you felt someone staring at you from the doorway, and you turned to face Tommy. 

He really was good looking, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. You wondered what it would be like to feel those arms wrapped around you and shivered, then scolded yourself.

“Are you lookin’ for Momma? I think she’s out on the porch with Charlie - er, Hoyt n’ Monty.” You offered. Thomas nodded but didn’t turn to leave. He looked pointedly at the radio. “Oh, you like this? It’s a new release.” You could see a shadow of a smile in his eyes. “I’m sure Momma’d tan my hide if she heard me playing this kinda music in the house but damn, it’s good.” 

With that you turned back to your cleaning and Thomas stayed in the doorway, enjoying the music until it finally cut to commercial. And then he was gone again, back into the depths of the house. 

You smiled. It was the tiniest step - but it was a step in the right direction. Eventually, all things would heal

\---

Over the next week, you fell into a routine of cleaning and cooking and chores. Days passed without event, cheerful and sweet. On Saturday, Luda Mae called the house around noon and asked you to come down to the station right away - she needed to go home and help Hoyt with something. Without much thought you had done so, walking the few miles to the station. She had rushed off when you got there, leaving you alone to handle the slow paced old place. The hours crawled by while you busied yourself dusting the shelves and tidying up, glaring at the few stray bikers who came by until they paid and left.

When it came time to close, you quietly turned off the lights and locked up. You weren’t looking forward to the walk back in the dark and almost considered calling the house to ask Hoyt for a ride, but they were already giving you so much you felt bad asking for more. You had your handgun tucked into the back of your shorts anyways, and you could handle yourself. 

But when you turned to leave, you saw a huge shape just beyond the gas pump. You almost jumped out of your skin before you realized who it was. 

“Tommy!” You cried. “You scared the shit out of me! Jeez.” But you hurried over to him, smile wide. He didn’t meet your eye, staring determinedly at the ground. “Did you come to walk me home?” Still staring at the ground, he nodded. 

“Well, thank you. To be honest, I was a little worried ‘bout the trip back. I’m glad you’re here.” You said. You linked your arm in his, to his apparent surprise judging by the way he stiffened, and started back towards the house. Soon the single light outside the station was far behind you and it was completely dark. The whole sky was lit up beautifully with stars. You forgot what that looked like - the sky so far from the city. You stopped walking and looked up in awe. 

“God, look at that, Tommy.” You exhaled. “Can you believe all the stars you can see out here? It’s beautiful.” He made a noise of agreement, and you looked towards him and saw he was staring directly at you, not up at the sky. He immediately jerked his eyes away again.

“Hey.” You gently but firmly said. He slowly lifted his eyes to meet yours. “I uh, I tried to come back. Sooner.” Now it was your turn to stare at the ground, but you could still feel his eyes on your face. “And I couldn’t. If I could’ve I woulda been back here that day.” A long pause followed before you were brave enough to look back up. Even in the darkness, lit only by stars, you could see the acceptance in his eyes. You smiled at him and headed back to the house in a comfortable silence, arm in arm, underneath the neverending sky.

\---

Once the meat had been handled, Momma had asked Tommy to go out to the station and walk you home. Hoyt was otherwise incapacitated (too drunk on a kill and booze to even get into the car, let alone drive) and she had determined you shouldn’t be walking home in the dark.

So he had walked the few miles in the setting sun. He had done his best to avoid direct contact with you for the last week, but he still desperately wanted to be around you. It was distracting at best and existentially painful at worst. You had been thick as thieves as children, and it had taken years for the hurt of losing you to dull enough for him to lock it away. Then suddenly you burst back into his life, 10 years older, unfairly beautiful, perfect and soft and marvelous. And what was he? A dumb animal. It was so much harder to have you close enough to touch but still completely out of reach.

He waited for you beyond the pump, uncomfortable in the open air, watching as you locked up. You were wearing one of the only outfits you owned - some denim shorts and a blouse - and your legs looked incredible. He swallowed down the thought of how soft the curves of your thighs would feel under his hands, full of guilt for even letting the thought cross his mind. You saw him and startled, stepping back, horror on your face. He felt his heart drop in his chest - you saw what everyone else did. A monster.

But then your face changed. You smiled broadly and ran towards him, calling his name. You had lectured him for scaring you, you hadn’t recognized him. You linked your arm in his, practically dragging him behind you as you headed back to the plantation. 

Halfway home you had stopped, staring up at the sky, lost in the stars. He took the moment to admire your face, beautiful under the night sky. You seemed just as nervous as he was, suddenly. 

“I uh, I tried to come back. Sooner. And I couldn’t. If I could’ve I woulda been back here that day.” Your words almost knocked him over. He wondered if you knew, somehow, that he had waited for you all those nights after your birthday. That he thought you had given up on him and the Hewitt’s. He could hear the pain in your voice and pushed back the instinct to pull you into his arms, hold you safely where you could never be hurt again. He settled for tightening his arm around yours.

The rest of the walk home was silent, but for the first time in so long, peaceful.

\---

When you got home, Luda Mae was scrubbing a large dark stain on the kitchen floor. You rushed to help her, pulling her up off the ground. 

“Momma, you shouldn’t be doin’ that, you sit n’ rest.” You said gently, guiding her into a chair. You took her spot on the floor, scrubbing at the stain with a bristle brush on your hands and knees. “What happened?” 

“Oh,” Luda Mae looked exhausted. “Brought some new meat home for slaughter today n’ accidentally made a mess.” This opened up more questions than it answered, but you could see how tired she was, and with all the hospitality you had been granted you weren’t about to pester her with rude questions.

You worked at the stain until it had almost disappeared entirely, mopped the floor, and, satisfied with your work, scarfed down leftovers Luda Mae had set aside for you and retired to your room. You crashed hard into sleep, dreaming of a starry sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know what to title any chapters (or the fanfic itself, I just picked a random Texas thing). Anyways thanks for reading!


	3. Outsiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild TW's for this chapter, mentions/implications of past abuse/PTSD.

You had been back a month now, and seemed like things were improving. You enjoyed the predictability of your daily routine, broken up by the occasional instruction from Luda Mae to take over the store for a day or help Henrietta out with her trailer. There was plenty happening you didn’t truly understand - like a host of new junker cars on the property, the secretive slaughterhouse, and occasional errant purse or shoe you could swear didn’t belong to any of the Hewitt’s popping up around the house. But you also didn’t want to understand. Something was going on, you weren’t stupid, but you were content. You could turn one hell of a blind eye to keep things how they were.

And best of all, Tommy had been warming back up to you. He’d meet your eyes at dinner, linger in the kitchen to listen to music with you while you cleaned, listen to your jokes with a smile in his eyes. 

But as happy as you were, some days were harder than others. This particular one was unbearably hot, and you had spent most of it out in the field trying to get a decent bed of fall crops in. The Hewitt’s has tried to maintain a semblance of a garden, but you were a farmer’s daughter and tilling the Texas soil was in your blood, so you had taken over the field as a personal project - a choice you were beginning to regret, dripping sweat under the unrelenting Texas sun. Finally you called it a day and you and Luda Mae scrounged up dinner - more of that delicious meat they had so much of, stewed with a few potatoes and a scraggly onion. 

Afterwards Uncle Monty and Hoyt headed out to the porch to have a beer, Luda Mae took to front room to rest in the light breeze coming in through the windows, and Thomas disappeared to the basement to do whatever it was he was always doing. 

_You _wanted to go swimming. The sun would still be up for another hour and you couldn’t imagine anything that would feel better than jumping in the crick you and Tommy used to play at - and maybe you could get him to agree to come along. 

You walked to the basement door. You’d been warned off going down there - it had been made into some kind of makeshift slaughterhouse, and according to Luda Mae it wasn’t a place that any ladies or polite company should be. You didn’t consider yourself to be either of those things, but you did respect the rules of the house, so you stayed out. 

Instead you pounded on the door. After a minute with no answer, you repeated the knock. A moment later, the door slid open and you found yourself face to face - or maybe face to chest, truth be told - with Thomas. He looked down at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his and you smiled as sweetly as you could up at him.

“Tommy, come on. Leave your work be for an hour or two, I wanna go down to the crick an’ go swimmin’.” You could see the incredulity in his eyes. 

“Oh, come on. We used to do it all the time when we were kids, remember? Asides, it’s hotter n hell out here, I’m nearly ready to faint from the heat. An’ I bet you’re roastin’ under all those layers, don’t you want a chance to cool off?” You smirked at him, and you could swear a blush crept around the side of his mask. He shook his head and started to turn away. 

“Fine then.” You sighed. “Suit yourself, I’ll go alone. If I drown out there or some bikers carry me off, just know it was your fault and if you’d just take a break from workin’ for five minutes to hang out with your old pal, I’d still be alive and well.” 

\-----

Fifteen minutes later, you were both walking down the side of the road, listening to the cicadas buzz in the August evening heat. You were chatting away in a one sided conversation about the music you had heard recently - you both enjoyed the rock station out of Odessa, and Tommy nodded along in agreement with your opinions about some recent releases.

It didn’t take you long to get to the crick, cutting through the underbrush by the road. You stripped off your clothes down to your bra and underwear and jumped in, shrieking as the cool water hit your skin. All the sweat and dirt from the day washed away and it felt marvelous. You looked back to the bank of the crick, where Tommy had settled in the shade of a tree. He was staring at the ground as hard as he could. 

“You comin’ in?” You teased. “It’s too hot to be up there. Feels great ‘n the water!” He just shook his head, eyes utterly fixated on the dirt in front of him. You could see a hot blush spread up around the edges of his mask. 

“Are you embarrassed?” You teased. “You can look, you know. You’ve seen me in plenty less than this. Member when we were kids and Momma used to bathe us together to save on hot water?” With what seemed like great effort he looked up at you and his eyes almost bulged out of his face.

You were utterly stunning floating there in the crick. You chest, barely contained by your white bra; rivulets of water pooling on your soft stomach; the space where your thighs met. You paddled over to him and stood up. 

“Like whatcha see?” You teased, striking a pose and turning in a circle. Across your back, between your shoulder blades, your skin was riddled in twisted burns. Cigarettes, probably, long healed now. A deep scar marred the back of your upper arm, always covered by a blouse. To Thomas’s eye it looked like a badly treated stab wound. 

He found himself wondering yet again - what had happened to you?

If you knew what he was thinking, you didn't let on, enjoying the bliss of swimming in the crick and finally getting a break from the heat. You periodically splashed at Thomas, teasing him to join you. The last rays of sun were low in the sky when you finally climbed out.

“That’s the best I’ve felt in ages.” You said as you pulled your shorts and blouse back on. “Thanks for coming with me. It means a lot.” You smiled crookedly at Thomas and the two of you started the short walk back home.

Only a few minutes into your walk, you could hear the sounds of a car in the distance. A thousand feet ahead of you, you could see some Jeep tearing down 75, far faster than it should be going. You felt Thomas stiffen next to you and almost out of habit reached out and grabbed his hand, just like when you were kids. 

“It’s fine, Tommy. Probably just some assholes passing through.” You said calmly, watching as the Jeep approached. Outsiders - funny how you felt that way when you yourself had been one only a month ago. You hoped they would just pass by you without issue but what was the chance of that? Sure enough, the Jeep started to slow down until it came to a stop. You glared at the driver. 

“Hey there, where ya’ll headed?” He asked nicely through the open Jeep window. He had a face that you supposed most girls would consider quite handsome, but you knew better than that. None of these men could ever be trusted. 

“Why’s it your business?” You shot back. Why hadn’t you thought to bring your gun? You’d never go anywhere without it in the outside world - did you think you’d be safe just because you were back home? Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

The man in the driver’s seat shrugged and laughed. “We’re headed out to California for a big show. What’s a cute thing like you doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?” He completely ignored Thomas’s existence, hand still in yours. You could see 3 others in the Jeep, all about your age, laughing and talking. 

“Keep movin’, mister, I ain’t got shit to tell you.” You snapped. He laughed, and the man in the passenger seat gave him a light shove. 

“Yeah, you hear that, Billy?” The passenger teased. “She isn’t into you, man.” The driver gave him a playful shove back and turned his attention back to you. 

“Aww, come on, sweetheart. Climb on in, it’ll be a good time. You won’t miss that ugly animal you’re walking with right now, I tell you what. What in the hell is wrong with him, anyways?” He said, gesturing at Thomas. You could feel the rage choke in your throat and realized, at this point, you were probably holding Tommy’s hand uncomfortably tightly. The words bounced around in your head - ugly animal. Always the same shit from bullies. Getting older didn’t change anything.

Pushing down your anger with a deep breath, you dropped Tommy’s hand and walked towards the car. You could hear the other passengers hoot and clap, and the driver’s grin widened in a way he probably thought was handsome. It made you think of all the other bad men you had met, or a baboon baring its teeth in rage.

You smiled as dazzlingly as you knew how to at the driver. He leaned further out the window as you reached him. 

“Let me tell you a secret, I gotta whisper it.” You said quietly, sweetly, and he damn near stuck his entire upper torso out of the window. You were still holding back all that anger, a whole lifetime’s worth, and suddenly you let it go. Everything slowed down around you, and your fist connected with the man’s face with a sickening crack. 

You took a few steps backward purely on instinct. You could see blood dripping from the driver’s nose, his expression suddenly ugly. You processed the joyous shrieks from the passengers as they turned into cries of surprise. 

“You fucking bitch!” The driver screamed, and this made you smile. “I’ll fucking kill you! Bitch!” 

“Get out of the Jeep and find out what happens.” You jeered. “You’re not the biggest man I’ve fought. You ever been beat by a girl?” Not your smartest move - there were four of them and one of you, and he was bigger - but you had never learned how to keep your mouth shut. And you would _never_ let someone talk about Thomas like that. 

The driver reached for the handle, unbuckling himself with his other hand, and then froze stock still. You could see his eyes trail above you, and you realized Thomas had come up behind you. He put his right arm across you and pulled you back tightly against his enormous chest. His left hand was clenched into a fist; you looked up at his face and saw his eyes burning. 

The driver was apparently willing and ready to fight you but not the hulking man behind you, and he quickly threw the Jeep into gear and tore off down the road, still screaming obscenities as he floored it. You shivered, and Thomas continued to hold you close until the Jeep was out of sight. 

“Thanks, Tommy.” You said. “I guess I still run my mouth too much, huh?” You pulled away from him but kept a firm hold on his hand. You knew what he was feeling right now - from similar encounters in your childhood and the look in his eyes - and it wasn’t good. That broke your heart.

“They’re full a shit. Don’t know what they’re talkin’ bout.” You added, voice venomous. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground but his hand was wrapped tightly around yours - a good sign. 

“You know -” you hesitated and he looked up at you curiously. “I shouldn’t say this. It ain’t Christian and Momma would probably die from shame if she heard it. But I hate this damned world. I spent 10 years out in it and haven’t met a single person worth the pine box they’ll be buried in, outside the family. I’d kill ‘em all myself if I could.” 

Thomas tilted his head and you saw an emotion you didn’t understand in his eyes. It wasn’t horror or disgust - relief, maybe? Acceptance. He nodded in understanding and you started back down the road towards home. After another moment, you cleared your throat.

“For the record, you ain’t ugly. I think you’re awfully handsome.” Thomas made some kind of involuntary choked noise in surprise and you grinned widely.

You walked the rest of the way home in silence, hand in hand. When you made it back to the plantation you lingered on the porch for a moment, still not happy with how the day had ended. 

“Tommy -” you started, and cut yourself off. Before you could lose confidence you practically jumped up to plant a kiss on his cheek, right where the mouth of his mask opened and a bit of skin showed through. He stood stunned, looking at you with wide eyes. “Those people don’t matter. Only this family matters, okay?”

He nodded slowly. From inside the house you could hear Hoyt drunkenly start hollering about something and you sighed. 

“We better get back inside, huh?” 

\---

After the incident at the creek, Thomas had taken to lurking around your room at night. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it - he wanted to be around you. You were the only thing he could think about, the rage in your eyes, the blood on your fist when you punched the driver of the Jeep. He thought for sure you had been about to leave him and hop in with the good looking man but instead, just like you had your whole life, you had defended Thomas. Never mind that he was a foot taller and twice as wide, never mind that he could snap someone’s neck with one hand - you were there throwing yourself in front of him to protect him. 

The driver’s words echoed in his head - _I’ll fucking kill you!_ Part of him was disappointed the man hadn’t gotten out of the car, because Thomas itched to rip him limb from limb for threatening you. Part of him was also glad the man hadn’t gotten out of the car, because then Thomas probably would’ve had to kill everyone in the Jeep and you would’ve found out the truth and it just couldn’t possibly have ended well. 

With these thoughts on his mind, Thomas would toss and turn on his bed in the basement until he finally gave up and crept upstairs to sit outside your room, dozing off leaned against the door, listening to you sleep.

This carried on for a few days with no exception, but tonight, something was different. He could hear you tossing and turning horribly, making strange noises - little whimpers and cries. Suddenly it escalated and you began to scream. Hearing this he burst into your room where he saw you thrashing in bed, still asleep. 

_“Stay away from me!”_ You pleaded, and he felt his heart shatter. He had seen Hoyt have these same fits after he came back from the war. What were you remembering?_ “Stay the fuck away from me, don’t touch me. Stop! STOP! Leave me alone!”_

Tommy wasn’t going to stand by and let you experience whatever was going on in your head alone. He rushed to the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders, wishing he could cry out your name to wake you. Instead he settled for shaking you, petting your hair as you lashed out.

Finally, you snapped out of it. It was like a switch was flipped; suddenly you were absolutely silent, eyes wide and awake, staring into his. 

“Tommy?” You asked quietly. He wanted to comfort you - _I’m here, I’ll keep you safe, no one will ever touch you, I’ve got you, I’m here_ but he had to settle for trying to let it show through his eyes, hands running through your soft hair. You buried your face in his chest, sobbing. “Don’t leave me, please. Don’t leave me, Tommy.” You repeated over and over. He had never heard you sound truly helpless, stripped of bravado, and it hurt him more than he could handle.

He climbed into the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms, wrapped up securely. You buried your face in your chest and drifted back into a peaceful sleep. 

He was, in turn, wide awake. First and foremost because this was the closest you had ever been, tangled in his arms, pressed firmly against him. Thanks to the heat you were only wearing an old shirt, and he could feel your bare skin burning a hole through his clothes. Almost against his own will, his hand started to stroke your arm. Your skin was so soft compared to the harshness of his hand, and he hated himself for that. He wished he could be anything other than what he was; he wished he could be what you deserved. 

He also couldn’t fall asleep because he again wondered what had happened to you out there in the world, away from the safety of the Hewitt house. He thought back to the river a few days ago, the burns on your back, the deep scar on your arm. 

One thing was for sure - he would never let anyone or anything harm you again. With that thought on his mind, he drifted to sleep himself, holding you tight.

He woke before you, the gray dawn light filtering in through the windows. He looked at you, still curled safely in his arms. You were beautiful, absolutely perfect, and he felt a sudden deep sense of shame radiate through him. He had temporarily forgotten who he was, his face, the blood on his hands. He quietly untangled himself from you and vanished back into the depths of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for the nice comments and the kudos. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. 
> 
> Anyways two tropes one chapter! But I love them both and I was excited to write this one.


	4. The Truth Comes Out pt. 1

Tommy had been avoiding you for over two weeks. Ever since that night he had stayed in your bed with you, you had barely seen heads or tails of him. He had even started skipping dinner, coming up to eat leftovers at some godforsaken hour of the night when he knew he wouldn’t chance running into you. It was like all the progress you had made regaining his friendship in the last 2 months was completely reversed and it was intensely frustrating.

He had always been like this - he had avoided you for almost an entire year after his bullies broke your nose when you defended him, convinced you would be better off without him in your life. Child you had waited it out until he finally felt safe to come back around, but adult you was more impatient. You had half a mind to throw open the basement door, march down, grab him by the tie, and confront him.

You weren’t even sure _why_ he was avoiding you. Had you done something wrong? Had you made him feel uncomfortable asking him to spend the night in your bed? Maybe you had crossed a line you shouldn’t have. Truth be told, you were intensely embarrassed that had happened. You felt weak and ashamed to have shown that side of you to your friend - you hated seeming helpless. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about it as you scrubbed the kitchen floor on a balmy Tuesday morning, taking your anxieties out on the worn wood. You had feelings much deeper than friendship for the sensitive and sweet butcher - you always had, ever since you were a child, and they were getting harder and harder to ignore, but it largely seemed like he could care less about you.

“Jesus darlin’, what did the floor do to you?” You heard Hoyt tease, bringing you out of your thoughts. You looked up at the older man, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“If ya’ll didn’t track more dirt in the house than a pig in her stye I wouldn’t have to beat on the floor like this.” You snapped back. He chuckled. 

“Momma’s lookin’ for ya. Wants you to take some stuff out to Henrietta n’ help her with a few things.” He said. You knew what that meant - the Hewitt’s were up to whatever it was they did, and this was your cue to leave. Getting out of the house would do you some good anyways, and you dashed off to find Luda Mae.

At her instruction you packed a basket with some dried cuts of jerky and biscuits and started off across the field, gun tucked safely in the back of your shorts. After the incident heading home from the creek a few weeks ago, you took the it any time you left the plantation house - you would never be vulnerable again.

A few minutes later you arrived at the trailer. Henrietta had you take a look at her generator, which was an easy fix, but then she asked you to sort out her sink which would up being a bigger project.

By the time that was taken care of it was noon and the three of you sat down for lunch, gossiping back and forth about the latest drama and news Henrietta had picked up on her radio. She loved celebrity gossip and keeping up with the news; she was really your main source of information about the world outside the farm. A breeze wafted in through the window and the September air was still hot but not quite as unforgiving. You felt relaxed, removed from the anxiety you had felt that morning.

It didn’t last long - out of nowhere, a woman’s screams echoed through the trailer like an explosion. You were up before anyone else could react and ran for the door to see a woman about your age on the other side of the screen, pulling repeatedly at the locked handle. She was blonde, pretty, wearing an expensive looking short set, and covered in blood. 

“_Let me in!_” She begged. “Oh god, please! Please help me! He’s coming for me! Oh my god, he’s going to kill us!”

You should have felt many things in that moment - compassion, empathy, fear, confusion.

You didn’t. A lifetime of crushing poverty and a decade on your own had hardened you. You looked back at the women in the trailer, who were both wearing oddly blank expressions, like they felt the same way you did. Neither had moved from the table.

“Who’s going to kill you?” You asked, hoping your voice sounded more sympathetic than you felt. The girl continued to wrench on the door handle, hysterical. 

“Oh god! Please! HE is! Some fucking freak, he was huge, he had a mask, I don’t know, I stabbed him and I ran.” She sobbed. “Please, please. Let me in! I don’t want to die. Oh god!” 

You felt the blood freeze in your veins. _Tommy_. She had stabbed Tommy.

You heard nothing else she said, although you could see her mouth continue to move. It felt like that day at the creek all over again - like time had slowed down, like you were floating above your body and it was operating on its own. You watched your hand move to the screen door handle, open it. The girl started to fall into the trailer and in a fluid movement you saw yourself grab her hair in your left hand, draw the gun from your shorts with your right hand, push the barrel to her head, pull the trigger.

The deafening sound of the shot in the aluminum trailer dragged you back into your body without mercy. You stared down at your own hand tangled in the hair of the girl - you had killed her. She was dead. Her hair was wet with blood, your hand was soaked up your wrist; a mist of blood was sprayed across your blouse and your bare legs. You had killed another human being. You processed, in the background, Henrietta and her mother looking at you owlishly - not the reaction you would expect, but then, how could you possibly know what to expect anymore? You had murdered someone.

_Tommy._ She had stabbed him. Where was he? You were out the door and sprinting back across the field towards the house a second later, focused only on finding the butcher, adrenaline burning in your veins.

You could see Hoyt running in your direction and barreled towards him. His face was strange, a mix of fear and anger and surprise. He grabbed you, surprisingly roughly, and damn near took you to the ground. You viciously kicked him, knocking him back. 

“_Where ‘n the fuck is Tommy!_” You screamed at him. He stared at you from the ground and you realized you were still holding your gun. You imagined how you must look to him, covered in blood, wild-eyed, and decided you didn’t care. “_Hoyt!_ I said, where ‘n the FUCK is Tommy!” 

“Look darlin’, maybe we should just take a moment to -” you cut Hoyt off. 

“Some fuckin’ girl just ran up in Henrietta’s trailer saying she stabbed Tommy. I ain’t playin’, Hoyt, where is he?” Hoyt blinked. 

“What happened to the girl?” He asked you.

“I fuckin’ shot her in the head. Reckon her body is still up in the trailer.” You snapped. Hoyt gave you an odd look and pulled himself up from the ground.

“You shot a woman in the head ‘cause she said she stabbed Thomas?” He repeated, completely ignoring the second half of your statement.

“Of course. He’s family.” You replied, agitated. Hoyt nodded, thinking for a moment. 

“Did she tell you why she stabbed Thomas?” He followed up. You breathed out heavily, irritated as hell. This conversation was getting you nowhere. 

“She said somethin’ about him tryin’ to’ kill her. Look, I don’t much care what ya’ll were tryin’ to do to her. I just need to know if Tommy is okay.” You pleaded. You could see a hint of a smile in Hoyt’s eyes.

“Listen darlin’, Tommy is fine. Bitch did get him good but Momma’s fixing him up right now and he’ll be right as rain tomorrow. But I think we should go back to the house and talk to Momma. There’s somethin’ you need to know.”

You weren’t fully satisfied with this, but lord knew you didn’t have any other options. You were a murderer now, anyways - you had been to jail once, for 18 months; you couldn’t imagine what a life sentence would be like.

So the two of you headed back to the house in a strange silence. Monty was sitting on the porch in his wheelchair, like he often was - Hoyt glared at him as you passed and he examined you without a word. In the front room, Hoyt sat you on the couch. 

“Look, I’m gonna go get Momma. How about you put that thing away now? It ain’t polite to have it out in the house.” He said, nodding at your gun. You tucked it back in your shorts and Hoyt disappeared into the house. A minute later you heard two sets of feet come down the stairs - heavy ones, Thomas, headed out the back door. Light ones, Momma, headed to the front room. 

The old woman sat next to you on the couch, smoothing your tangled and now bloody hair with her hands. 

“Are you alright, honey?” She asked you kindly. The adrenaline had started to wear off and the weight of what had happened began to settle on your shoulders. 

“I don’t rightly know, Momma. I just killed a woman.” You said, the words falling out of your mouth in a jumble. The old woman smiled kindly at you. 

“You protected the family, dear. Just like I raised you. Your daddy would’ve been proud.” This hit you like a ton of bricks and suddenly, even though you weren’t really sure why, you were sobbing. You collapsed into her arms, head buried in her lap, clinging to her shawl like a child. 

“Oh my lord, Momma. What am I gonna do? I don’t want the family to get ‘n trouble.” You sobbed. She continued to pet your hair, rocking gently back and forth. 

“Shh, honey, we’ll all be just fine. Tommy’s taking care of it right now, okay?” She said soothingly. _Tommy. _

“Is he okay, Momma?! I was so scared when she said she stabbed him.” You could barely get the words out at this point, shaking and gasping for air between cries. 

“He’s just fine, honey. He’s a strong boy, you know that. It would take more than that to hurt him.” This comforted you, and you began to wind down. Eventually, when your breakdown had subsided, Luda Mae pulled you up and explained it all to you - the meat, the killing, all of it. How they had survived out here after the slaughterhouse closed. 

It all fell into place, and now that the initial shock of killing the girl had worn off, you felt oddly comfortable with it all. You hated the outside world - it was nothing but ugliness and unkindness. And if this is how the family survived, so be it. The world had preyed on you for too long and it was your turn to bite back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a 2 part chapter. I wrote it as one chapter but didn't really want to subject anyone to a 3.5K+ tribulation so I split it up. 
> 
> I've been thinking about this since I started writing the fic so I'm pretty excited to put it out into the world!


	5. The Truth Comes Out pt. 2

Exhausted by the events of the day, Luda Mae sent you upstairs to clean up and take a nap, dismissing you from your afternoon duties. You came back down at dinner time in your white sundress, the only clean piece of clothing you owned at this point.

Thomas was conspicuously missing from the dinner table, which floored you. You had put a bullet in a woman’s head for him and he was still avoiding you? You chewed on the hearty stew Luda Mae had made while Hoyt regaled the table with the tale of the kill you had made that afternoon; you just wanted it to be over. Soon enough it was and you cleared the table and cleaned up as fast as you could. The second the last dish was put away, you marched straight to the basement, threw the door open, and headed down the stairs. 

You could hear the roar of a chainsaw as you descended into the basement. The butcher was facing away from you, carving up _something _with the saw, and didn’t notice you come in. The basement was certainly grimy and eerie, but you had spent plenty of time in the old slaughterhouse after school, waiting for Tommy to get off work so you could walk home together, and it wasn’t a complete shock to you. Determined not to lose your nerve, you marched over to Thomas, stood behind him, and crossed your arms across your chest. 

“Thomas Brown Hewitt, you best put that saw down and tell me what the hell is goin’ on.” You said as bravely as you knew how to. He startled, whipping around and dropping the saw. His eyes were wide with shock. He was covered in blood, wearing an absolutely filthy butcher’s apron that you made a mental note to acquire and wash later. His sleeves were pushed up and you could see all the scarring on his forearms, underneath the grime. 

“You have been avoidin’ me for two weeks and I’m sick n’ tired of it.” You said. Thomas hung is head in shame, which was not what you had hoped for. “I don’t want you to feel bad, Tommy. I just wanna know what I did that made you upset. I care a lot about you n’ I’m sorry if I did something wrong or crossed a line with you. I’ll stop bein’ so pushy. But I like spendin’ time with you and I’ve missed seein’ you around.” 

It was quite a speech - you had been thinking all day about what you wanted to say, and most of it had come out at once. There were a lot of things Thomas desperately wanted to say to you in return. _No, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect. I’m the problem, I shouldn’t even be around you, I’m worthless. I’m sorry for avoiding you. I like spending time with you too. You look beautiful in that dress. _And maybe most of all, _I love you. _

He had to settle for trying to communicate the gist of it nonverbally, waving his hands empathetically. You understood what he meant when he pointed at you, shook his head, and then gestured frantically at himself, and then his mask, with an anguished look. 

Was this really all about him thinking he wasn’t good enough? This simultaneously broke your heart and pissed you off even more. 

“Thomas Brown Hewitt, I shot a woman in the head today ‘cause she hurt you.” You snapped. “Don’t be stupid. You’re my best friend in the world and the best man I’ve ever met.”

He was clearly starting to get irritated too, gesturing back at you frantically. _That woman shouldn’t have even been able to get near you. I was weak, I failed, you could have been hurt. You’re better off without me. You should go find a normal man, a normal family. _You didn’t exactly understand what he was trying to say, but you picked up on the core message - it was the same bullshit. He was really that unconfident, hated himself that much. 

“Stop it with that kinda talk, okay! I’m a big girl, I make my own decisions, n’ I came back here for a reason!” You were raising your voice now. He refused to meet your eye, looking off to the side, and shook his head. _ No. _With a rage you reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him down to eye level. Never mind that he was a giant and a killer - you were mad and you weren’t going to be ignored. “I wish you could see what a good man you are!” 

With a growl of frustration, he stood back up to full size, squared his chest, and unexpectedly ripped off his mask. If you wouldn’t listen to him, he would show you. He towered above you, staring down in anger and shame, daring you to respond.

It was the first time you had seen his face in 13 years - when you were ten and he was twelve, and he dropped out of school to go work at the slaughterhouse, he had taken to wearing the mask all the time. And, to be honest, it was worse than you had expected. 

But it also really didn’t matter. He was still an incredibly handsome man, all things considered, and beyond that your feelings for him had nothing to do his looks. 

You smiled up at him, all the anger dissipating. You gently placed a hand on the bottom of his face, thumb softly stroking his jaw.

“I have loved you since I was five years old, Tommy. N’ that includes your face.” Your words seemed to surprise him - they certainly surprised you. You hadn’t even admitted the depth of your feelings to yourself until now. 

He looked down at you, gazing up in him in adoration, beautiful in your white dress, and something inside him snapped._ You loved him._ Suddenly his mouth was on yours, his arms were wrapped around you, your bodies were pressed together.

You responded enthusiastically to the unexpected kiss, grabbing at Thomas’s shirt like you could somehow pull him even closer. It was a moment you had been waiting for for 10 years. The butcher picked you up as easily as a normal man picked up a small child and placed you up on the workbench, a better height. You could feel his hands running across your body with a fervor, your waist, your thighs, your breasts, and you moaned into the kiss, clinging to him like you were drowning.

“Ahem.” You heard from the doorway, and you both split apart as quickly as the kiss had begun, Thomas stumbling away while you hopped down and smoothed your dress. Hoyt was leaning against the metal door to the basement, grinning in an irritatingly cocky way. 

“You uh, got some blood on ya.” He said, gesturing at you. You look down and realized Thomas’s hands had left bloody stains all over your dress, including your chest. You could feel your face burning red with embarrassment but tried to keep your voice cool. 

“It’ll wash out. You need somethin’ or just tryin’ to get a free show?” This made the old man burst into laughter. 

“You are somethin’ else, missy. Momma’s lookin’ for Thomas. She wanted to check on his injury. Ya’ll better be upstairs in short order.” He headed back upstairs and you turned to Thomas, who looked just as embarrassed as you. 

“Well, guess I’ll see you later then. Don’t make yourself such a stranger, you hear?” You said. Not exactly graceful but you weren’t really sure how else to exit the conversation. You turned to leave but Thomas reached out and caught your wrist. 

You turned back to him. He raised your hand to his mouth and kissed your palm, then placed it over his heart. You knew what he meant. _I love you too. _

It was utterly endearing and you couldn’t help yourself, jumping up into another kiss, holding each other as close as you could for a moment.

“Well, we better get upstairs.” You said regretfully. “We sure don’t need Momma to come lookin’ for us next.” This made Tommy grin. He deftly tied his mask back on and the two of you headed back upstairs, the world suddenly much brighter and more beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just over here banging pots and pans together screaming let! me! have! the! big! bois!


End file.
